Archive | January, 2013

I’m Not That Kind Of Girl

3 Jan

Side Note: This blog is becoming less about my anxiety issues (yay drugs!) and more about me navigating my way through being in my late 20’s, which is sometimes anxiety inducing as it is. I’m sorry if you’re sad I’m not on the crazy train anymore. I assure you, at some point, I’ll find myself boarding the next flight to Crazy Town. You can tune out until then, if you really want, or stick around and watch as I make a fool out of myself, over and over again.

So Tuesday night, I was hanging out with my “football boys” – a group of ridiculous gentlemen with whom I drink beer, watch the game, and bullshit with on a pretty regular basis. We go to this bar that is henceforth going to be known as The Office, where the waitresses are all adorable, sweet, and approximately 16 years old.

One of our favorite waitresses, probably the only one who will put up with us anymore, says to my buddy… dude, why is Shannon still single? And he says, I dunno, ask her. So she did.

And I didn’t have an answer, except for my usual bullshit about being a bitch and too much to handle.

A little bit later, we starting talking to this fun family at the table next to ours, who were having dinner and drinks, and cheering for the Wisconsin Badgers if only because I insisted they do so and they were afraid to disobey the drunk girl.

So eventually, the mom says to me… So, Shannon, what the hell? Why are you single? And dad pitches in, any guy would be lucky to have a girlfriend who loved to watch football and drink beer with the guys. You don’t meet many women who are content in front of a big screen set to NFL Network on Sunday.

What the hell is this, a conspiracy?

The truth is… I don’t really know. I’ve grown complacent in my “living alone” -ness. I am shockingly independent. I am also foul mouthed, moody, easily annoyed, and crabby. I march to the beat of my own drummer, including dancing and singing while putting gas in my car, wearing my pajamas to the grocery store at 11:30 pm, and owning two of the laziest cats on the planet.

On the other hand, those all might be excuses. I am terrified of putting myself out there… again. Rejection is something I AM REALLY BAD AT. (No one takes rejection well, I know this – I am just worse at it than most people.) I would, at this point, rather be alone (with lazy cats) than bear the embarrassment (real or imagined) of another failed attempt at a relationship.

So why do I run from relationships? I guess I’m just not that kind of girl anymore.

Being A Grown Up Is Scary

2 Jan

I just got back to Texas after an extended trip to Wisconsin, where I was coddled and cared for like a 5 year old, and I’m having trouble re-adjusting to normal adult life.

I took today, Weds, off, so I could get myself back into the swing of things and be refreshed and ready to go. Fail. I seriously didn’t get out of bed until 5 pm, and the most I accomplished all day was paying some bills. Oh, and getting the mail. I did do that. But for the most part, the cats and I slept and basically checked out of reality for the vast majority of the day.

I’m finding it harder and harder to not be terrified of being a grown up. For someone who spent their entire childhood wishing she was an adult, I’m shockingly bad at it. I’m almost 28 years old, and yet the thought of going to my office and sitting at my desk tomorrow is so overpoweringly unpleasant, I had to crawl back into bed and write about it instead of mentally prepping myself for what’s to come.

This is the age I thought I would be when I had my shit together, and yet so far, I could not possibly have it together less. I am being held together by packing tape, string, and a single binder clip, I swear.

It’s obviously time to start making some changes, but I’ve never been one to take a risk, so I guess I’ll continue waiting for a sign or something. Maybe a flowerpot somewhere is waiting to fall on my head and wake me up.

Happy 2013, y’all – I hope yours started out a little better than mine. Nothing like introspection and a healthy dose of whining to start the new year off on the right foot…. as usual, I seem to have stubbed a toe on that “right foot.” How about you?